


Tinsel Tart

by fiftysevenacademics (rapiddescent)



Category: Richard II - Shakespeare, SHAKESPEARE William - Works
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Smut, Light Bondage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-14
Updated: 2014-12-14
Packaged: 2018-03-01 10:20:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2769443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rapiddescent/pseuds/fiftysevenacademics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Richard shows Aumerle a Christmas decoration he's never seen before. Haters of tinsel and anachronistic elements in fic be strongly advised.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tinsel Tart

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the Shakespeare Advent Event (on Tumblr) Day 13 prompt: Tinsel.

Aumerle isn't sure why Richard invited only him to help decorate the tree in the great hall. It's a huge tree, around twelve feet tall. They have had to use a ladder to get ornaments to the top. They started two hours ago and aren't even close to done. Wax falls from the candles in big, wet splats and congeals on top of the solid wafer that has already formed on the stone floor. Several candles sputter, and the skirt of wax around their holders and flickering flames suggest they are about to burn out entirely. 

"He really should have servants do this," Aumerle thinks. "Or at least, let Bushy, Bagot, and Green help. We're never going to finish this."

But Richard is unperturbed. In fact, he isn't even helping as much as he should, which, unfortunately, doesn't surprise Aumerle, but irritates him slightly nonetheless. He spends a lot of time sitting in a gilded chair with red velvet cushions, sipping mulled wine from a small silver cauldron kept warm over a brazier, and watching Aumerle's shapely thighs, their curves accentuated by his blue hose, as they move beneath his short, green wool cotehardie. Every time he leans in to place an ornament on a difficult spot, Aumerle can feel Richard's eyes on his firm, round ass, which is also on display. It bothers him at first, but slowly, it dawns on him that this might be the reason why only he has been ordered to this task.

A servant arrives with a large casket that Richard receives excitedly. He lifts the lid as the servant backs out of the room with deep bows, and Aumerle turns his head, a silver glass ball in mid-air, to see what he takes out. Richard pulls from the box a long, golden strand that catches the candlelight and shimmers in his hands. He keeps pulling until he comes to the end of the strand, then reaches his hand back into the casket and Aumerle sees another shiny, golden handful emerge over the side. 

He's never seen anything like this, and approaches the casket to kneel next to Richard. Richard smiles and places the strand he's holding in Aumerle's hand, and, says, "Go on." Aumerle tugs, and more of it piles into his hand. It's made of short, gold metallic strands wrapped around twine, and it seems to go on for miles before he reaches the end. He must have a look of wonder on his face, because Richard looks at him and laughs softly, or, if Aumerle had been paying closer attention, wickedly.

"What do you think of the tinsel?" Richard asks.

"It's beautiful, my lord."

"Hold up your hands so I can see what you're holding, too," Richard commands, softly, so it doesn't sound like an order.

Aumerle raises two hands, filled with glimmering gold. Richard grasps his wrists in the long fingers of his left hand and plucks a garland from Aumerle's outstretched palms with his right. Aumerle wonders what he is doing, but doesn't dare move. 

Richard opens Aumerle's hands and moves them behind his back, holding them there by the wrists. The tinsel Aumerle had been holding falls to the floor. Richard wraps the garland around Aumerle's wrists and ties it firmly in place. Because the twine is thin, he binds the wrists with a second strand. 

He has never done anything like this before, and Aumerle feels weak and a little afraid to be on his knees, hands tied behind his back, before a man who always holds his life in his hands whenever they are alone together. 

He starts to cry out, "Richard!" but catches himself and says, "My lord!" instead.

"Shhh." 

Richard picks up more tinsel and shifts behind Aumerle. He binds his ankles with two strands of tinsel, just like the wrists, and fastens the two bundles together with several strands, pulling the wrists and ankles as closely together as he can without upsetting Aumerle's balance. He has to kneel with his legs wide apart in order not to fall over.

Aumerle's heart pounds and a fierce wave rides his veins down from his temples to his cock, which his garments cannot conceal from Richard. Richard returns to face Aumerle. A smile that veers from admiring to taunting flickers along Richard's lips when he sees the effect he's having on Aumerle, and he begins to unfasten the silver buttons of Aumerle's garment slowly, one by one, allowing him time to react to and anticipate each movement, until the chemise beneath is fully exposed. 

Richard leaves Aumerle kneeling in front of his chair and fumbles in a drawer on the other side of the room. He returns and kneels with a small knife, with which he cuts open the front of Aumerle's fine linen shirt. Aumerle inhales quickly, and holds his breath, even after Richard sets the knife of the lid of the tinsel box. Richard trails his fingers down Aumerle's chest and back up again, twining them in his dark chest hair as he leans in, one thigh between Aumerle's thighs, to suck on one of his nipples. Aumerle moans and feels himself lean into Richard's thigh, even as he throws his head back slightly, exposing his muscular throat. Richard bites it, and Aumerle rubs his aching cock against Richard's thigh.

Richard rises immediately, a reproving look on his face. 

"Did I ask you to do that?"

Aumerle shakes his head. 

"No, my lord. I'm sorry."

Richard picks up another strand of tinsel from the pile Aumerle dropped, wraps one end loosely around his bare throat, and knots it. Holding the other end in his hand, he returns to his velvet chair, and tugs gently on the tinsel leash after he is seated. Aumerle almost falls over, but manages to stay steady, and when Richard tugs again, realizes he's supposed to move toward the chair. He bounces from knee to knee on the hard stones until he's kneeling in front of Richard, who has already lifted his houppleande and unlaced his hose and is fondling his hard cock with one hand.

With the other hand on the back of Aumerle's head, he pushes his face toward his cock, which isn't difficult because Aumerle does not resist in the slightest and opens his throat wide to receive him. He sucks and licks until he feels Richard tense, then thrust frantically, grabbing fistfuls of his hair and crying, "Yes, yes!". Aumerle swallows and looks up at his king, splayed and delirious above him, and hopes Richard never removes his bonds.


End file.
